My son is shoving super-sized doots into his ears and spinning ecstatic circles around the bathroom.
I tried getting him learned, so to speak, by illustrating cartoons and orchestrating puppet shows about how a doot is a tampon and a tampon is for hemorrhaging lady bits. Lady bits are not small snack crackers but consist of scrambled eggs, ping-pong ovaries, swirly tubes, one water balloon of a uterus, and a vagina thrown in for good measure. This vagina, in turn, is the price a woman pays for not beating Adam to the party.
Still, he twirls.
We go outside. I’m wearing sweatpants in 94-degree heat because they are two-sizes too big on a good day but barely elastic enough on a bad one. I’m feeling dangerously close to the Thrice Belly zone, and understanding that thrice is two too many(in regards to stomach rolls, not dinner rolls), I make a note that this is a very, very bad day. The dog comes up to me again. Tail wagging as it’s been for days, she burrows her snout into my shorts for another game of Period Crotch Smells Weird. Sniffeth!
I made the poor decision to breeze through pregnancy without a single craving and end the show with a dazzlingly calm birth of a 10+ pound Man Child. As I spend my week of female flooding face down, whimpering into a vat of Haagen-Dazs, I feel him roll his eyes in my direction as if to say “Buck up, old girl. This ain’t no thing. ‘Member that time you shot that big ‘un out like whoa? Now, how’s about you cook me supper?”.
I was down and wishing I was out of uterine wall lining. I sought comfort in Midol and grumpy curse words under my breath. The tardy mailman is, in my defense, an a@$f!*#mot$*^!c@&%!er. I wondered what the neighbors would think if I protested menstrual cycles in the front yard: Hell No! Stop The Flow! signs or maybe just a somber display of feminine hygiene products, a moment of silence for those brave, absorbent souls who’ve lost their lives to pointless monthly warfare. More than anything, I wished I could get this house of men to understand the savage cramping staging a private Fight Club all up in my business. I tried to explain the horrors of womanhood delicately before my hormones sparked and fizzled. I wound up disgusting myself out with stories of innards and bloodbath and sacrificing reproductive organs to the Maxi Gods. And then I found him, the perfect means to educating these Weens on the injustice of periods, the one dude that finally gets it. He’s four.
Blo000od! Bloooooood! Is not funny!
And truer words were never spoken.
I am Mr. Clever with my comments but this is a women thing so I have to refrain from commenting or a “red” flag will be posted about me. 98 in Miami.
Only you can make a topic such as this exciting!!
(Technically, this post SHOULD carry a “lady bits” warning, but since you’re feeling crappy, I’ll let it slide this time. See how nice I am?
)
Okay, Carl, let me take the heat (in more ways than one).
I rolled the dice some years ago and got a double payout. The wife had horrific … um … “those times” with lots of cramping, nausea, and bleeding. When one hit really bad, I took her into the doctor and they found cysts (endometriosis) wrapped around her uterus, tubes, and ovaries. When they took out the growths to save her life (literally – they were pre-cancerous, and both her parents died of cancer) they also took out the stuff that gave her the monthly problems. Twofer!
By the by, (and here’s where I save the rest of the guys, Carl), you DO realise that a woman’s cycle is the same as a lunar cycle? And you DO realise that the word for crazy, “lunatic”, comes from the Latin root for moon, right?
(Ducks under bed to avoid mass of incoming objects.)
You’re welcome, guys!
Funny post (about a not-so-funny subject). Thanks to Carl and John for the bonus laughs
I feel awful I should have posted a Vagina Speak Warning on this post. Poor dudes.
Okay, Tori, you have done it once again! Tooooooo damn funny! I especially love the line, “This vagina, in turn, is the price a woman pays for not beating Adam to the party.” Brilliant, my friend! You sure do write bloody well! (Sorry, couldn’t help myself.)
Kathy
Kathy, EVERYTHING is relating to blood these days. It’s Six Degrees of Vaginal Wound over here. Sale on BLOOD oranges at the store, etc. The signs have been everywhere.
Way to put a humorous spin on something that I know does NOT seem humorous at the moment. May Mydol and Ben and Jerry be with you!
Ommmm. I’ve been one with the Midol for DAYS.
Hilarious on all counts. But the video “Blood! NOT FUNNY!” Oh the hilarity.
I just want to high-five that kid.
I’m right there with ya sista.
If you create a Female Fight Club, count me in!!
“I tried getting him learned, so to speak, by illustrating cartoons and orchestrating puppet shows about how a doot is a tampon and a tampon is for hemorrhaging lady bits”
I laughed during the entire post, though I shouldn’t, but I did.
Honestly, I laughed, too. Best to get my mind off my lady-ness right now!
This post Is absolutely priceless! I think every woman feels that way on their time of the month. My husband does not understand either, he’s all why don’t we go stand in line at wal*mart to buy something we don’t need till December!!!! And then I have to remind him that I could absolutely got off on a murder charge because by God if I’m bleeding mister you can be to! He generally goes to the store by himself after that and brings back ice cream (if he knows what’s good for him)!
Does your husband teach classes in Not Sucking? Can I send a few dudes his way for a little instruction?
Too funny! You shouldn’t be sharing secrets of the sisterhood like this.
When I clicked on your video it crashed my computer – I got a big blue screen error that scared the crap out of me. Is that just me?
Oh no! Hope I didn’t go blowin’ up your computer! If you go to YouTube and type in little boy, Blood video it should pop up. It’s hysterical… and totally true!
I couldn’t watch the video, but I bet it was just as funny as the entire post. I complained for years about the dreaded period (I had severe endometriosis and cysts…hellish pain I can tell you! but my partial hysterectomy took it all away 2 years ago) My husband just never “got” what we all go through month after cruel month. I said to him, “imagine you wake up, then you start spurting blood out your penis. Then your penis starts to cramp up and you spend the day hunched over in tears. And this goes on for days EVERY SINGLE MONTH” The look of horror on his face was priceless.
Maineiac- Sounds exactly like what my wife went through. If a “penis cramp” comparison doesn’t get through (though yours did, thankfully), go with a knee in the nuts. EVERY guy can relate to a knee in the nuts!
Very true. So maybe a blood-gushing penis AND a crushing cramp in the nuts would get my point across clearer!
Hahahaha. I think I missed part of this conversation, but based on this comment alone YOU WIN. Sorry, John.
Ooo,,,, you’re a vicious person! I like that…..
Haha! Is this real life? John, I like how this comment section turns into full fledged conversations about getting kicked in the gonads, etc. You keep this party hoppin’.
Hey, as the “token guy” on a lot of female dominated (God, that sounded unintentionally kinky!) blogs, I feel I have to make up for the less-than-stellar hubbies out there. If I can give you a good laugh, mission accomplished!
Youch! I had cysts as well and I still insist that pain was WAY worse than childbirth…. which men also don’t go through. This gender thing is seeming more messed up by the minute.
While I’m normally a fan of vaginas, I was feeling a bit squeamish by the time I reached the second paragraph, and then when the crotch-sniffing dog entered the picture, I was ready to bolt for the hills. But not before commenting, of course!
And now you know why, Mark, I keep lobbying for a “lady bits” warning label…….
Haha. Tis true. I did promise you a Vag Talk Warning not too long ago.
Well, Tori, ya gotta do a little artwork, but here’s a good start:
http://moadesign.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/Design-VAGINA.jpg
Now you just need one of those red-and-white “not” signs (the circle with the slash) in place of the diamond.
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. And Ha. Perfect! Is that a diamond? A Gina Diamond?
Yeah, I guess it’s what you’d call a “diamond in the rough”. Or you can try this one:
http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQVVvxYvmUDE7dyYDJ3nWzqVYQ2Gg3ih73Pr3-xqTlIlf60BW7mJA
No editing work required, the image pretty much says it all.
Oh. That’s the winner. I might just have to get a t-shirt with this picture on it.
Hahaha. Apologies. Apologies. I totally let you and the other boys just walk right into that trap, didn’t I?
Too funny. I totally support John’s signs. Any of them.
I’m thinking the megaphone crotch might win… or lose, depending on how you look at it.
NOT FUNNYYYYYYYY!
I kinda forgot everything that preceded the video based on the sheer adorableness of that little boy.
Reread. You’ve done a beautiful job of setting me up to explain the matter to my own children, when they’re actually children (versus just child) and old enough to start wondering. :p
Just a note: The hand puppet/ cartoon imagery bit? Totally didn’t work. I say save yourself some craft glue and markers and just stick with YouTube
This was so funny! I hope your ride on the red pony ends soon. May I suggest an Earthquake Brownie Sundae from Dairy Queen? That’s period food that you don’t share!
That’s the worst part! I’m on a diet (I guess to lose weight, but more likely just to punish myself). I’ve been chomping on carrots and wanting to kill or eat everything in sight!
Oh goodness. You touched on the dog sniffing too? Oh goodness. lol
Have you seen this funny Summer’s Eve commercial o_O (that’s me giving it the side eye) about taking care of the “V” after showing all these epic battles fought for it through the centuries? I’m not a fan of Summer’s Eve commercials but i like that one.
Just googled Summer’s Eve commercials. ICKKKKKKK! I was pretty bummed when the dog started sniffing me, like I didn’t already feel gross enough
Lord I don’t miss those days; today I’ll celebrate being 58 and having all that behind me. Tori, how many other crazy women live inside your funny bone beside you? “The price a woman pays for not beating Adam to the party”? BRILLIANT!!
Thanks Renee! I keep telling The Mister I can’t be getting put on meds because I’d hurt the other fifty voices swirling around. He didn’t laugh
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